Travel Writing Competition: A weekend in Bundi

Ambika Gupta, a law student from Jodhpur, travelled to the remote fort-town of Bundi in Rajasthan. The fourth runner-up of the competition, we like her story as much for the unique choice of destination as for the clear, intimate description of her experience.

“All this you can get in any hill station!” The hotel owner is visibly disturbed that I am more interested in the weather than the “real tourist attractions of Bundi”. However, my best bet to experience something new in Rajasthan is to juggle with the seasons; the rains work magic on monstrous cities, and I am rooting for a quiet, serene town steeped in history and inaccessibility. Twenty two kilometers away, Kota is the nearest railway station to Bundi.

Under a leaden early-August sky, with the damp ground squishing under my feet, I make my way to the older part of the town. An ancient, narrow, winding road leads through giant gateways and past ancient temples to the foot of the majestic Bundi fort. It lays spread across a hillside with huge walls outlining the crest of the hill. Directly opposite, on another hill in the distance, is a similar wall. Caught between these two bastions, the trademark blue white-washed houses threaten to drown with every clap of thunder.

Hugging the hill, at the base of the fort there are many heritage hotels but my choice of accommodation is not difficult: the 300-year-old Haveli Bundi Vilas has rooms on the roof! A roof which melts into the inky blackness and I get the surreal feeling of being suspended mid-air while having dinner by candlelight. The lit-up fortglows golden against the rumbling sky, rent with lightning bolts. During day, swirling dark clouds block the harsh sun, bathing the town in a suffused glow; sunlight streaks to the ground in distinct, clear shafts.

I go to meet the fabled Mr. Sathi, owner of a popular, one-stop-shop for tourists. I find a blown-up poster of a face with a wide, cheeky grin and sparkling eyes, hung on a Coca-Cola refrigerator. I am struck dumb, however, by another astonishing sight: two men are washing it with much concentration, which the owner of the face and shop happily informs is a daily ritual. Armed with a scooter and a glass of Sathi’s special lassi (indistinguishable from regular lassi) I set out to Rameshwaram, the cave temple of Lord Shiva, 20 km away.

The sky is fluid; clouds of grey, black and purple race across the canvas as the sun glints through the cracks. Lightning freeze-frames the landscape, capturing its images. Meadows stretch for miles till they meet the hazy purple hills. Jait-SagarLake – 4 km long and smooth – perfectly mirrors the hills and the aptly named palace, Sukh-Mahal, which teeters on its edge. If it weren’t for the turbans, scattered edifices of Rajput architecture and date palms waltzing in the wind, you wouldn’t suspect the fiery Thar Desert is right next-door.

Climbing the temple steps, I see colourful saris and matching blouses hung to dry on the trees and rocks, almost hiding the stern admonition, “Bathing in the kund is strictly prohibited”.

Bundi has a distinct lack of signposts, which certainly adds to the spirit of discovery. I drive past Kshar-Bagh with its beautifully-carved chhatris nearly three times, before realising that the nondescript doorway in the moss-covered wall is the entrance. Shikar-Burj, an abandoned hunting lodge, sits unannounced, sunken in the ground and so visibly haunted that I keep a safe distance. The Bhimlat-Mahadev waterfall, 38 km from Bundi in the direction of Chittor, looks like an underground tropical rainforest with foliage so dense that I instinctively expect to see a multi-coloured parrot.

The “real tourist attractions of Bundi” are worth a visit. The fort and palace has its centuries-old, mysterious aura and smell. There is a sense of desolation; the huge studded gate shuts out sound, time and other influences. The step wells –Raniji-ki-baori – and the double-storied 84-pillar cenotaph Chaurasi-Khambon-ki-Chhatri, are lit by moonlight; all spare electricity has been diverted to the fair. The 13-day long KajliTeej festival is drawing to a close and preparations for Eid are underway. The shops are brightly lit, happy crowds block traffic, women haggle, energetically elbowing each other.

Serene and mysterious, Bundi welcomes you with a smile, and has its dose of regular tourist attractions. But the real discoveries are the ones you make on your own, while the town waits patiently.

The next runner-up will be announed on Thursday 12 July 2012

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